


falling means nothing to me

by cryystal_m00n



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Poetic, but i swear minho doesnt die just trust me on this one guys, minho is a Hag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 21:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20234485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryystal_m00n/pseuds/cryystal_m00n
Summary: “do you trust me?” the man asks, his grip on minho’s hand tightening. the sirens are getting louder, there are people shouting at the masked man to hand over the hostage and surrender himself.“i’m nearing my forties, i don’t have anything left to lose,” minho says.“then jump with me.”





	falling means nothing to me

**Author's Note:**

> the tags make it seem angsty and stuff but i promise its not that bad. and minho doesnt die, i dont know how to explain it without spoiling it. if youll read it youll find out  
i have no idea how or why i wrote this, so if u have any theories of wtf is going on pls tell me in the comments  
don't expect much. i know i wrote that it's poetic, but its really not, i just wanted to experiment with my writing again  
with that being said, enjoy my dudes, dudettes and non-binary friends

“do you trust me?” the man asks, his grip on minho’s hand tightening. the sirens are getting louder, there are people shouting at the masked man to hand over the hostage and surrender himself. 

“i’m nearing my forties, i don’t have anything left to lose,” minho says. 

“then jump with me,” the man’s voice is enough to know that he has a choice, that he can stay back and let the police take care of him, bring him down and give him a shock blanket, maybe even money for the trauma he has suffered.

but minho is bored, and frankly, he wants a change. so he follows the man --his angel, he introduced himself as-- and jumps off the thirty story building.

* * *

minho’s life, for as long as he’s been able to comprehend the fact that he is alive, has been plain _ shit _. sometimes, if he were lucky, next to it would appear a boring too, but that was only on the good days. 

his parents died when he was young, and since that isn’t cliche enough, god threw in some ‘wrong’ sexuality in the mix, though, he only found out about that later in his life, at the tender age of fifteen. 

until then, he jumped from one foster family to another, from one orphanage to another one, that didn’t get shut down in the span of the two months he was away. he never knew the love of a mother, nor a father, but he didn’t care. he was content with this life, even if it meant never having a family, or a place he could call his home. 

living in the eighties and nineties as an orphan was hard enough as it was, but minho, won the lottery on hardships, and when he was barely fifteen, he realized he was gay. and not in any way that wouldn’t traumatize him, but by developing the worst crush possible on the foster family’s own son, a seventeen years old boy who looked like he hadn’t slept in ages. 

(it wasn’t his proudest moment.)

thankfully for him, he got shipped back to the foster house, and so, he forgot about yoongi and the whole self realization of his true sexuality. 

the moment he turned eighteen, his life all but settled into a routine, one that gave him confidence that he wouldn’t starve on the streets, nor die beaten up by the homophobes in the small town of gimpo-si. 

it was boring, and he hated it, but it was his, and he had no interest of changing it, no matter how little happiness it might have brought him. he didn’t have the motivation, the resources, or the power to change things himself. 

and so, minho waited for a miracle, for someone to come and change his life for him. that someone never came, but then again, minho wasn’t surprised. 

he lived his lonely life in the same routine he’d come to despise, and he stopped wishing for that miracle. 

* * *

when he woke up this morning, minho didn’t think his life would take a wild turn. it started off as normal: wake up, wash, drink coffee, rush to the restaurant where he works, miss the first step at the entrance of it, curse at it under his breath, then work eight excruciating slow hours, then go back home, climb five flights of stairs before giving up and taking the lift, push the door open to an empty apartment, cook himself rice, wash again, fall in bed and then slowly, shut his eyes and let his brain go numb, if only for a few hours. 

suddenly, just as his brain was going numb, the window crashed, alerting him enough to make him jump awake. 

there stood a man, clad in black, a mask covering his eyes. he looked at minho, and minho looked at him, yet he spoke not a single word. 

“who are you?” minho asked, wearily standing up and approaching the figure. 

“your angel,” he said. 

now that minho was close enough to him, he noticed he was slightly shorter, slimmer than minho himself, but the way his clothes hanged on his body made him seem as if he had a more robust built. 

“you don’t look like one, though.”

the man sighed, and minho could see him roll his eyes in annoyance. “let me guess,” the so called angel said, “i look more like a demon?”

“maybe.” minho took a seat once again, his body growing tired with each second that passed. “why are you here?”

“to take you somewhere,” he answered simply. he held his hand out, but minho was too scared to grab it. 

“why did you crash my window… if you say you’re my angel?”

the man sighed again, but there was a smile playing on his lips. “you want a change, right, lee minho?”

minho nodded. “you’re going to say you are that change, i know you are, but how do i know you mean it? you could be a psycho trying to kill me.”

he shoved his hand in his face again, not saying anything. minho eyed it carefully, then, he grabbed it, all worries thrown out the window. 

the man pulled him close and suddenly there was wind blowing around them, the whoosing making him feel nauseous. his eyes were closed the second the angel’s arm wrapped around his waist, the secure grip making minho’s cheeks flush. 

when he did open his eyes, they were in the heart of the city, lights flashing, people yelling left and right, rushing from one place to the other, never bothering to look around them. he could see someone heading straight towards him, speaking loudly on the phone in a foreign language, eyes unfocused. 

minho wanted to move aside, but the man’s arms didn’t let him, holding him in the same place. the person was getting closer and closer, minho braced himself for the impact, eyes shut, breath held. 

it never came. 

“people can’t see us, you know? we’re in the past.”

“in the past?” minho wondered aloud. it didn’t look like an old scenery, quite the opposite. the giant ads on the buildings, the smartphones he could see in people’s hand, the catchy bubblegum pop coming from a cafe nearby weren’t good arguments for the man’s point. 

“well… about half an hour ago. nothing too extreme, humans can’t really travel through time for long periods with ease.”

“why did you bring me here? what, you’ll point at random people and tell me their stories? make me feel better that my life isn’t as shitty?”

“no,” he said, after a long pause, “why would i do that? we’ll just wander around.”

“until you come up with a better plan?” minho finished, earning himself a glare from the angel and a mocking under his breath. 

“are you the angel here?”

“well, i still don’t think you’re one either, so... i don’t know what to tell you, man.” the second glare made minho laugh, turning around and beginning to walk down the street. the angel followed close behind, a constant reminder of this chaotically realistic dream he was having. 

he watched people pass by him or through him, and minho thought that this wasn’t that much different from real life. it was the same, he was just as unnoticed, just a speck, on a flock, on a blemish, on a grain of sand in one of the multiple beaches in the universe. he meant nothing, his life had no impact on anyone, and the thought brought him pain as much as it did with serenity. 

he didn’t want to be something, he gave up on that years ago, but somewhere deep, deep in his heart, he still longed for idea of it. 

everything was bleak. even as that man was trying to convince him that he represented the change minho wanted, it didn’t change one bit. there was nothing that could bring color in his life, there was only black and white. 

he turned to the man and asked, “got any new plans?”

“hmm,” the man said, scratching his chin. it was this moment when minho noticed that his cheeks look adorable. “one more?”

“do your worst, angel.”

everything around him shifted, the colors turning back to dullness, and out of nowhere, he found himself on top of a building, so tall he could barely see below him. 

* * *

he’s falling, the man’s hand still in his and it’s liberating, so comforting that he wouldn’t do anything else in this moment. this is the most exciting thing he’s done in a while, but like all good things in life, it comes to an end. 

there’s no sound of him hitting the ground, no actual feeling of dying, of breaking his bones. 

it’s just falling. and then everything is silent, not a single sound left.

* * *

when he opens his eyes, he is met with the same man, or angel, or whatever he is, staring down at him, a big smile on his lips. it’s adorable, probably the best thing minho has ever seen in his almost forty years of living. 

in his still drowsy state, he lifts his hand up, pulling the black mask off. with no more material covering his face, minho can finally see the face of his angel. he’s beautiful, exactly what one would expect from a divine being, crafted by god. his big eyes hold secrets of the universe, his pretty lips sing tales of the unknown, in his dark hair lay stars and comets and planets. there are galaxies shining inside of him, skin made from crystals and his cheeks…

minho pokes them. giggling, he says, “you’re fucking cute, y’know that?”

the angel smiles, and minho has to close his eyes. of course he mirrors the sun in his smile. “i’m jisung, your angel. and i was sent to take you back.”

“do i get to stay with you?”

the angel’s-- jisung’s smile widens. “only if you want to. you are now free to do anything you wish.”

“i’ll stay with you,” minho says without much thought.

“is that a promise?” jisung asks.

minho holds his pinkie out. “a pinkie promise.”

and the angel, this being made from galaxies and nothingness at the same time, this perfect _ thing_, links their pinkies together. 

**Author's Note:**

> scream at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/cryystal_moon) or [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/cryystal_moon)


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